October 6, 2003
Mystic's Dream
The days are long and the nights are longer. I'm staring at a bowl of cereal, half-eaten, unable to resign myself to the fact that yes, it is only Monday, and yes, tomorrow is only Tuesday. Tuesdays are absolutely and entirely too long, I think I shall strike them from the week altogether.
I would like to write a poem so I can post, but there is no pressing sentiment currently burning in my hands. They could use a bit of lotioning, now that I've looked at them.
Today is too bright for autumn. I want just a slight drear lingering, with a wind, speaking of winter's bitterness soon to come. There is a sort of burgeoning life seeping in through my dorm room window today, and I do not welcome it. I've laid the flannel blanket out on the bed, I've hung up all of the sweaters in the closet. I am ready to see my breath on the air, eager for a red nose and cheeks. I know it is silly, but so am I. This time of year speaks to something inside of me, there is so much reflection to be found in the turning of this season to that, for that scant month when the world is aflame and yet cold to the touch, like a photograph.
astera at 2:57 p.m.